


His Man In Uniform...Or Without It

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Weird But Beautiful [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Keith Whitley reference, Language, M/M, Mischief, Sassy talk, Teasing, inuendo, tempting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: McCoy loves to see his man in uniform and ready to go to work.McCoy also loves to see his man standing before him with his discarded uniform puddled around his naked feet.  But still ready to go to work.  Just at a different labor.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: Weird But Beautiful [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761436
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	His Man In Uniform...Or Without It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GalaxyPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyPixel/gifts).



"Come on," McCoy dared with a mischievous grin and twinkling eyes while he looked up at Spock standing before him. "You know you want to do me. Even if I prettied it up just now with a socially accepted word so we wouldn't cause a helluva stink in a mixed crowd, it still came across what I'm after. I want you to screw my eyes right out of their sockets. I want you to make me blind so I can't see straight for awhile. I want you to make me blind and not care if I can ever see again. Just as long as you're close so I can root around on you as much as I like. And just so you're close enough to root around on me whenever I like, too."

Spock swallowed, but not so McCoy could see.

McCoy continued. "And I want you to make me think that's the only thing in live worth living for. I know you can make me feel that way, because you have before. And you want it, too. You know damn well you do, even if you're standing there real carefully now like you're constipated as hell or some other guy's got a red-hot prick shoved up your own butthole and you can't move for fear of shaking him loose!" Then McCoy momentarily lost his cool demeanor. "Well, let me tell you something, Vulcan! I wish I had your red-hot prick shoved up my butthole right now! I wish it was there for all eternity! What do you say about that?!"

Spock didn't say a word. He just stood there like some other guy had a red-hot prick shoved up his butthole. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do under the circumstances.

Where did McCoy get words like that, Spock wondered, and why did McCoy's words thrill him to the toes of his Starfleet boots? And all the while he was torn with the indecision that McCoy could see so plainly. And was that any wonder, either, seeing how divided he was by his devotion to duty and his own carnal lusts for the naked man whose body he craved with every waking hour. A guy who was so tempting looking right now, whether he knew it or not. But McCoy knew it!

Spock mentally wiped at invisible sweat on his generally placid brow. That also seemed like the appropriate thing to do in such the situation that Spock was in.

"Not talking, eh? Thought so," McCoy said with a look of victory, then felt expansive and compassionate. "Are you like the guy in the old Keith Whitley song then? You say it best when you say nothing at all?"

Spock mentally gathered himself. That question he could answer without compromising his integrity or revealing too much of his feelings to McCoy. "I do not know this Mr. Whitley to which you refer. Therefore I do not know if he can speak for me," he replied.

A shadow went over McCoy's face. "Sadly, not too many people got the chance to know him or his music. He wasn't with us long enough," McCoy said with a sigh. "He had too many personal demons and was taken away from the world way too soon."

"It sounds as if Mr. Whitley might have been his own worst enemy," Spock noted and felt proud that he had used an idiom correctly.

"Sadly, you have that right," McCoy said with another sigh. Then he stirred himself. "But we are alive and can live life to the hilt. So what do you say?" He gave Spock a flirty look. "Wanna shuck those clothes and jump back in here with me? I'll make it worth your while."

Spock just bet that McCoy could. Spock watched as McCoy ran his legs back and forth under the sheets. Spock did not need much of an imagination to "see" those lovely naked legs of McCoy's and the pleasures that awaited Spock where those two legs joined McCoy's body.

Spock furtively wet his dry lips with the tip of his tongue.

But Spock hadn't been furtive enough. McCoy had seen the darting of that green tongue in Spock's mouth and figured his words had scored. "This bedding can't get much dirtier than it already is." He winked. "Wanna try messing it any more than it already is, though?" When his tempting words and actions did not immediately get the desired result he wanted, he reacted like any prima donna. "Oh, be that way then!" He stuck his moist tongue out at Spock to remind him of that organ's continued existence. 

Spock sighed to himself. He needed no reminders of the tempting features of McCoy's delicious body. He knew well the continued existence of McCoy's moist tongue and its willingness TO GO ANYWHERE and TO DO ANYTHING on Spock's own appreciative body. And the trouble was, Spock wished that McCoy was using that moist tongue on him right now. Because McCoy was looking every inch the temptress, and it was almost more than any man could control. Even a Vulcan.

Leonard McCoy was lounging on his bed with its covers swirled around himself in untidy knots. Spock was dressed and ready for the day while McCoy was only freshly awake and still rumpled looking. He looked quite fetching actually, and at any other time Spock might've done something about McCoy's availability and charming demeanor. But not now. It was time to think of responsibilities and to put the things of nighttime away. The memory of last night's lovemaking was strong, however, and if Spock was a less principled person, he might be tempted to rejoin McCoy in their little love nest without any further persuasion on McCoy' part. Because the truth of the matter was that Spock could be very easily persuaded, but he did not wish to let McCoy know that.

The trouble was, McCoy knew what he was doing to Spock and how much Spock wanted to take him in his arms again. He knew he couldn't have the Vulcan the way he wanted him at the moment, but he could settle for some mushy, flowery words of caring. After all, McCoy had just said the "L" word, and he knew that Spock liked to hear sweet nothings as much as the next guy. He just didn't always want to admit it.

What was actually going through Spock's mind was that he was wondering about other sweet things that came out of McCoy's mouth. In particular, like McCoy's tongue which had just made a brief appearance. That magic organ of McCoy's could do so many interesting, exciting, fulfilling, lascivious, cock-churning things to Spock's body.

Cock-churning! (Gulp!) Spock didn't dare blink. He'd already felt an upswing in interest from his nether regions from McCoy's ready and willing position in the bed. Spock didn't need his own imagination to come up with fresh images of his own body's current blatant need of sexual intercourse. Besides, he didn't want McCoy to realize how stirred he was by McCoy's words and his vulnerability. So near, and so tempting! And yet this was not the time!

But, oh, how the passion shot through the stoic Vulcan and betrayed his weakness of the flesh. He wanted to wet his lips because they were so dry. He wanted to draw his hand back to his front so he could cup his growing penis from view or at least to give it some sympathy. (Heaven's only that part of Spock needed no more stimulation or encouragement!) Because anything Spock did to comfort or hide himself would be a signal to McCoy about what was going on inside that seemingly placid exterior of his.

But McCoy noticed anyway. Even if Spock wasn't his lover and therefore very attuned to McCoy, McCoy was one helluva doctor that noticed subtle changes in his patients. And what he'd just seen in Spock wasn't subtle at all. Passion had Spock by his pale green balls and wasn't letting loose anytime soon. And the effect was registering responses all over Spock's body.

"I don't know what thought just crossed your mind," McCoy observed with a concerned frown. Then his face relaxed with a knowing grin. "But I hope that I'm the recipient of all of that ardor churning around inside you. Because, sweetie, you're churning," he decided with a knowing look.

Just my cock is churning, Spock thought, and all because of you. Sphincters all over my body are threatening to relax, that is how bad it is with me. And if they do, their actions will discourage all sorts of sexual activities between us this morning and for quite a few mornings in the future. But my cock, my cock is in fine shape. Perhaps it is only part of me that is.

Being a man of science, McCoy had to offer all sorts of theories about what Spock's problem was. "Or maybe you're going to lay an egg. I've never seen such a look of concentration on your face before. Something's gonna come out, one end or the other, that's for damn sure. Hard telling what it's gonna be, though. Just remember if it's vulgar or messy, you have to clean it up."

That should've been Spock's first clue that McCoy was being playful.

"You know that the clock has not magically stopped while we have been talking. I must report to duty," Spock decided with his hands still behind his back, but still he did not move.

McCoy tore off a pillowcase and fumbled around under the sheets for a moment. Then he threw back the covers, rose triumphantly, and strutted around with the pillowcase caught low on one hip and high on the other. His skimpy garment barely caught Holy Grail Number Two and hung barely low enough to hide Holy Grail Number One sufficiently. "There! Now what do you think?!"

That made Spock grin. "I think I have a lover who will try anything to make me misbehave when my biggest reason for being responsible and doing my duty is so that I will continue to deserve his honor and respect."

"Damn romantic Vulcan!" McCoy grumbled as he thought of one of Spock's favorite sayings: I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more.

Spock pulled his arms in front of him and opened them. "Now come here and have done with speaking. Give me a hug and a kiss to remember you by while we are parted."

"Not exactly marching off to war, you know," McCoy muttered as he complied. "There," he declared. "Reckon that will hold you until we can get back into that bed again?"

That's when Spock allowed a reaction to flash across his face. "Excuse me?! You have been the one tempting me! You are the one who has been luring me toward you when you knew I did not want to get this new uniform mussed. What would the captain think if I appeared on the Bridge looking as if one of your famous Georgia calves had been chewing on my clothing?"

McCoy grinned all over himself. "He'd be envious. Now you give me a hug and a kiss to last ME until we can hit that bed again. And I don't want to think that no Sunday School Marm pecked me on the cheek, neither! I want tongue and lips and teeth and whatever else you got stored away inside that mouth! And I want it messy! When I get up to that Bridge-- and I will-- I want Kirk to think that a whole damn herd of calves got a hold of me and I had one helluva time getting loose from them!"

Kirk did. So did everyone else on the Bridge. But Spock was beaming. Not everybody had a little pepper pot to love, but he did.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
